May 11th, 2015
Hello and welcome to the Den of Indomitus. I’m Madame Lenore, and from time to time, I will be sharing delectable stories from real sessions with the Den’s Mistresses. Sit back and vicariously envelop yourself in each true occurrence of delightfully wicked experiences brought about by our lovely and devious Mistresses.
May 11th, 2015
Mistress Amber shared this torturous number with me:
The best way to start off a Wednesday is, of course, doing some ball-busting! So it was just my luck that I was invited to participate in a session with three of the other Mistresses here at the Den. Walking into the session, I can tell instantly that the man before me can handle an extreme amount of pleasurable pain.
First, the other Mistresses and I surround him like prey, ready to pounce upon his nuts. His back against the wall, he has nowhere to run as we close in. Mistress Ivy ferociously squeezes his scrotum in order to warm it up for what it is about to endure. His legs are spread apart, exposing a perfect target. Having his balls smacked lightly fills him with anticipation. We can read his desire for more all over his face. Ditching the warm-up altogether, Mistress Ivy situates him balls to the wall (literally!), giving him a lovely kick with surprising force right between his legs. He buckles and releases a light groan. The other Mistresses and I chuckle at the sound of his first cry from our encounter.
While our helpless, hopeful victim is backed against the wall, Mistress Ilsa, holding onto the bar extended from the ceiling, finds the perfect footing to line up a kick that he will never forget. She lands the most beautifully aimed ball-buster I have seen in a long time. As his knees weaken, we hear titillating moans escape from his mouth. The room heats up as Mistress JordynRae turns him around, keeping his tender bits exposed. The view of his hanging nut sack puts a smile on her face as she strikes his balls with fierce determination. Her foot makes contact – sending excruciating ecstasy throughout his body – and he hits the floor.
“On your feet!” Mistress Ivy shouts, and he obeys willingly, amazingly still wanting more. Mistress JordynRae ravishingly lands a few more intoxicating kicks that can be felt throughout the Den.
It’s my turn now, and the energy from the other Mistresses makes for an exhilarating first kick of the day for me. My foot makes contact upon his sack smashing his already red balls. My precise aim makes him shriek as kick after kick blows his mind. For my final kick, I tap my target with the top of my high-heel, back my foot up, and let him have it. He can stand no longer and rolls onto his side, releasing a guttural whine from the depths of his soul which echoes against the walls.
The other Mistresses and I laugh in unison as Mistresses JordynRae and Ivy bring him back to his feet. There, Mistress Ilsa steps up to the plate, bat in hand. With a twinkle in her eye, she points off into the distance telling him she is ready to hit a home run. The look on his face is priceless as her elbows align with perfect form taking a few practice taps at his balls. He craves it now, dreaming of the seconds to come, almost unable to contain his eager gratitude of the treatment only a Goddess can inflict upon him. SMACK! The bat hits his sack, and his eyes roll back in complete bliss as he dances with the illusory stars he now sees.
“Thank you, Mistresses!” With a smile on his face, he departs the Den once again, until he returns for another episode of scrotal annihilation.
April 15th, 2015
Welcome, my tortured darlings,
Our auburn-haired sweet sadist shares the details of her latest trampling session below:
He loves worn heels — Stilettos: the kind that could poke a hole through his protective layers if I made one false move. He likes knowing that I create a wickedly fun space for trample hounds like him in the rooms of the Den. I bring in an extra pair of shoes for him to lick after I step on the side of his face. “Lick the tip. Suck on it.” I’m careful not to cut his pretty mouth with the sharp edge of the Stiletto as I withdraw it and once again place it on the side of his face.
I love the way my bare feet feel against his guts as they retreat to other parts of his body. “Do you hear that? The pained look on your face is priceless.” He likes it when I walk slowly — heel to toe, heel to toe — over his entire torso. It gives me giggly pleasure to step on his appendages and flatten them to his abdomen.
“How much can you take?” I ask as I start jumping over the lower part of his rib cage. I’m exhilarated thinking about the possibility of breaking him, but he always seems to come out of the session unscathed — except for his bloody nipples. I stand atop him with my heels in either of his nipples. I get off (and get off) to see the marks that I’ve made, hoping that they’re at least semi-permanent: Even though they are erect, they’re concave. I laugh as I mount him again to jump and make more marks across his stomach.
The whole Den hears as I use him as my personal rug.
January 12th, 2015
Hello, my precious deviants,
Our resident redhead had this tidbit to offer you wrestling fans:
I thoroughly enjoy my wrestling sessions. I specialize in both fantasy and semi-competitive wrestling, and I love it when men of different skill levels test themselves against me — and inevitably fail.
Puny wimps are no match for my superior strength. If you get cocky, I will spin you around like my own personal rag doll and throw you to the mat without an ounce of hesitation. I will stretch you — physically and mentally — until you are squirming putty in my grip. I take pleasure in seeing you wince in pain and writhe in discomfort as I nonchalantly squish different parts of your fledgling body with my fierce technique.
Bending you to my will comes effortlessly, and my laughter will assuredly ensue. It will frustrate you to the point of struggling even more, which will circularly cause more laughter. Take note: I will pin you as though you were nothing.
I expect you to admit aloud what I already know — that you are a little wimp. If you refuse to admit it, I will be all the more excited to deplete your helpless form of energy by wrapping you up like a pretzel and using you as an ottoman.
I will crush your ego between my muscular thighs. The charade of your being strong simply because you are a man will come to a grinding halt once you step onto the mat with me.
June 23rd, 2014
Mistress Ivy schools us in what it means for a Domina to have a kept man:
Hand him a rope and tell him to hobble his ankles. Bend his arms at the elbows and wrap electrical tape around both elbows up to his shoulders to form a pair of chicken wings. Tape his hands into fists. Put a leash on his genitals and lead him around the room. Sit him on a bench; then sit in front of him, smile in a sinister way, and explain that you are going to demonstrate the correct way to keep a man and that he is the ideal subject. Tell him that you are going to gag him by sealing his mouth shut. Men should only be able to speak with their eyes, and their mouths should constantly be packed and sealed.
Talk to him while you explain your actions. Put a ball in his mouth, and tell him that gagging him without first packing his mouth would not *do it* for you. Tell him that packing the mouth first is important in making sure that he is unintelligible. Seal his mouth with the duct tape. Put a wide X from above the ear down across the mouth to the bottom of the chin in both directions. Make sure that you put it on tight and that you smooth it down while pressing it hard. Make it a nice, good seal. Place another strip horizontally across the middle of the X, another above that one just under his nose, and another that covers his chin. If you’re feeling particularly sticky, place another strip or two underneath his chin and up the sides of his head, and tell him that it’s to finish the seal. Smooth these completely down by hand and make them nice and tight.
Tell him why you gag men and seal their mouths and how you find a quiet, gagged man very attractive. Kiss the tape all over and laugh at him while he attempts to speak. Always pretend that you believe that he is asking for more. “Oh, you want more? More tape? That was an ‘Mm Hmm’ not an ‘Mm mm,’ wasn’t it?”
Grab his head with both hands, turn it toward you, and keep reminding him why you like him gagged and that you would love it if his mouth were always sealed shut. Squeeze a nipple to test his speech and decide that he is still not quiet enough. Pull out some gauze and wrap it around his mouth and the back of his head — like a mummy; then test again. Lead him around by the leash while making fun of how hushed you have made him and how sealing his mouth makes him the perfect man for you. Tell him that you want to keep him overnight and that nobody knows where he is. And then ask him, “That’s alright with you, isn’t it?” Wait for his muffled incoherence before finally acknowledging, “That’s what I thought.”
January 27th, 2014
A continuation of Mistress Ivy’s torturous tickling of Slave C:
The challenge was agreed upon: My tickle bitch, formerly known as Slave C, had to last a 20-minute, bound tickle torture without saying the word “Mercy.” He really felt he had the advantage because “no one has ever been able to break him in the past.” He honestly thought he would win, with no doubt in his mind.
So convinced to win the challenge, he agreed that if he did lose, his consequences would be an OTK, bare-ass spanking while repeating any embarrassing or humiliating words of My choice.
“Well, I admit to the world: I lost!” exclaimed My tickle bitch.
“My endurance failed me. I couldn’t take anymore of the non-stop merciless tickle torture you were inflicting on me. To my surprise, I gave in and said the word ‘Mercy’ right around the 18-minute mark. I only had 2 minutes left to go. Damn!” he continued.
Now here is where it got more interesting…
Not only did he lose the challenge, I also made him pay the consequences in a very clever and sadistic way! Previously, I mentioned he would agree to do almost any BDSM, kinky acts as long as it involved females. He strongly expressed his hard limits were “NO MEN.”
I took advantage of his hard limits and sadistically incorporated them into the consequences of his tickle challenge lost. After a very short break, I extended the tickle torture and forced him to say things I never thought would come out of his mouth. He was forced to say, “I like sucking cock” and “Big, Black Cock” on top of that! The only way for the tickling to stop was to say humiliating and embarrassing words of My choice.
Oh, it’s not over yet! His feet were then untied, his hands still tightly bound. His legs were then raised over his head, and 22 hard, barehanded slaps brightened his bare-ass red.
How do I know there were 22? I instructed him to call out the number of each and every whack.
January 24th, 2014
A continuation of the redhead’s first journey into submission:
“I want you to beg properly,” he growled in my ear.
“Owie! Hah! Don’t!” I begged through my helpless giggles.
“’Don’t,’ what?” he prompted.
“Don’t, Sir?” I asked hesitantly.
“’PLEASE don’t, Master,’” he corrected. I repeated him, feeling sheepish.
Then he told me to behave and take it, and I tried, really tried to remain still and quiet. That didn’t work at all! I gripped the sheet for dear life. I attempted to muffle my screams and laughter by forcing them into the cushion of the bed, but I found out later that everyone in the entire dungeon heard me anyway.
Finally, he decided to give me a break. He spoke in a low, confident tone close to my ear to check in with me as I panted, trying desperately to get my breath back. He noted with approval the wet spots on the sheet where I tried to muffle my cries. He looked very satisfied, but he was ready to make me take more.
Once or twice, I laughed too loudly for his preference, so he spanked me. It was a firm, get-your-attention kind of spanking – and oh, he got my attention. Maybe I would have rather taken the spankings … yes, indeed.
The tickling was so intense for my virgin feet that I almost lost my voice, laughing and begging for mercy. This torturous experience lit a fire in me to be excited for my next sub session. Going from trainer to trainee challenged me on several mouthwatering (literally) levels.
January 13th, 2014
Our very own redhead had this to relay about her virgin submissive experience:
I’d only ever been in the Immersion Room as a Domme before, and the equipment that I was so familiar with as a Domme suddenly looked far more menacing as a sub! I hadn’t been this nervous in a long time, though I knew that the session was something I could handle – or so I thought.
My Master started the session by ordering me to lie face-up on the bondage bed. He cuffed my wrists above my head and spread my legs wide, tying me securely. I felt apprehensive and excited, and immediately my senses were heightened. My stomach began to flutter.
As he began to tickle my bare feet, both he and I realized how ticklish I really am. “I haven’t even started,” he claimed – and I realized I was in for a world of powerful sensation! As his quick fingers probed and prodded my soles, I naturally resisted by curling my toes and feet and by scooting as far away as I could manage, my wrists and ankles being bound just loosely enough for me to squirm for his pleasure. He tickled with his fingers and feathers until I begged for a respite.
He released my ankles and wrists and directed me to lie on my belly. My wrists were pink from trying to slip through the cuffs. He said that he’d train me to submit properly to his demands and ordered me to keep my feet parallel with the ceiling as he introduced floggers to my sensitive feet. I didn’t even have the benefit of bondage to help me – I had to hold the position all on my own. It was definitely a test of my will, with my desire to submit warring with my natural reaction of flinching and squirming from the tickling!
To be continued.
January 2nd, 2014
The following tale was shared with me by Mistress Ivy about one of her recent tickling sessions:
“Slave C” is what I call him. He first made contact with me through Fetlife; he wanted to know if I was a good tickler, well, because he has a tickling fetish — although there was a little bit more to it: “Cute, light, playful tickling doesn’t do it for me,” he said. His style of tickling is about pushing limits and pressing buttons. He was in search of a Mistress that could not only perform tickle torture, but someone who could tickle a person into hysterics while being verbally humiliated. Then he said, “Adding some pain pushes it to the edge for me.”
I was in a mean and cruel Dominatrix mood when we finally met. I couldn’t wait to dominate my victim with an intense, humiliating tickle torture. I showed NO mercy on him. If I thought my victim was having too good of time, I would swiftly correct it with some faceslapping and hairpulling. I had him forcibly bound, face-up, spread-eagle to a point where no — or next to no — movement was possible, but that didn’t stop him from making a spectacle of himself. He looked like a disgusting little worm, squirming all over the place. I quickly turned my victim into a quivering mass of super sweaty, screaming flesh. I took all of his self-control or self-respect. He screamed and screamed like a little girl on the playground. The whole building resonated with a pathetic mix of laughter, crying, and agony.
Later that evening Slave C sent me a message. “O.K., I admit, YOU got me good. You tickled the s___ out of me.” Then he confessed to me that someday he wishes to do a double-Domme session. “Do you think I will be able to handle it,” he asked. “We will have to find out, right?” he continued.
It was with that last question that I realized he was hooked. He wanted more, but a double-Domme session? That just makes him f___ing crazy!
December 17th, 2013
Mistress Kate made one couple’s night a real treat.
She contacted me through Fetlife. She was dirty. She was kinky. She wanted to be hurt: forced, restrained, beaten, choked. Her partner was vanilla. They were in search of an experienced Mistress to “show them the ropes.” Her girlfriend just wanted to watch, being a virgin to the scene. I was overcome with the possibilities, the ways she would be violated, fantasizing about what I would do to her while her woman watched utterly captivated.
They were 25 and beautiful. Ella was dripping during inspection, before I had even cuffed her! Her partner loved watching me collar her little bitch, affirming the steel tag engraved “SLUT” was entirely appropriate. Turns out Miss Vanilla had an emerging sadistic streak! As I strung my borrowed pet, clad in black bra and panties, suspension cuffs, leash, and clamps, I watched them both transform. Miss Vanilla quickly morphed to Demanding Domme Voyeur as I stretched Ella’s body with various spreader bars and a handy industrial wench. It was obvious she was getting very turned on when I forced Ella to face the wall and present her ass to her woman.
“Harder!” Ms. V exclaimed, as I whipped, caned, flogged, and paddled her sweet little toy’s ass. She was practically drooling, eyes glazed, forcing herself to remain seated. I knew she wanted in on the action. Who wouldn’t? Her lovely lady could certainly take a beating! The harder I hit, the more determined this rebellious lass became, stubbornly refusing to call out, per instructed by V, completely lost in subspace. I could almost smell the lust I saw in the “virgin” eyes of the “vanilla” voyeur. In that moment, I knew with absolute certainty they were both mine now.
To be continued.